Good Deduction
by RegenbogenLolly
Summary: Molly and Sherlock are growing closer as she helps him through the struggles after Reichenbach, and he helps her through a few of her own. SherlockxMolly pairing with a dash of JohnxMary. Rated T for mild language. COMPLETE! :)
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock opened the doors to the laboratory swiftly, striding towards his normal place at which he worked: his countertop with a microscope. He had some slides that he'd gathered from a human liver for an experiment, and he wanted to inspect some rather suspicious and unordinary parts that he'd found inside.

However, he stopped in his tracks when he noticed the familiar, overly-optimistic (but secretly charming) voice of Molly, singing a song in a cutesy voice and playing with something in a rather tacky looking high chair.

Wait… was that a baby?

Okay, stupid question. Of course that was a baby. Why else would there be a high chair and a duffel bag with the word BABY embroidered on it sitting next to her line of untouched slabs? More importantly, however, why was there a baby here? She didn't adopt one randomly, did she? It most definitely wasn't hers- he'd seen her nearly every day in the past nine months, and she hadn't even showed signs of being pregnant, much less had her body taken the shape of a pregnant woman.

"Molly?" He inquired curiously. Molly, who had just now noticed him, turned around and smiled. "Hello, Sherlock!" she said happily, waving one of the baby's hands at him. The child in turn giggled. "Why do you have a baby?" Sherlock asked, his voice containing confusion with an edge of irritation.

"Oh, this is Bradley!" Molly replied, standing up from the rolling chair she'd been sitting on and lifting him up. "Isn't he the sweetest?"  
"Hardly," Sherlock mumbled.  
"Pardon?" Molly pretended not to hear his remark.  
"Nothing," Sherlock replied emotionlessly. "However, you failed to answer my question. Why do you have a baby?"

Molly giggled and replied sarcastically, "Oh, you know, I ordered it online!"  
Sherlock blinked. "Is this your attempt at a joke?"  
She shook her head and frowned. "I suppose not. I'm… babysitting for my friend Natalie. She, uh, had work."  
"So do you," he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow.  
"Well, it's unsuitable for her to have a baby where she works," Molly rambled nervously, setting Bradley back down in the chair and wrapping him in a blanket, attempting to make the seat into a makeshift bed. "She works at a factory. They make helicopter parts. It's much too dangerous for a baby to be around machines capable of chopping their head off."

Sherlock nodded slowly, already distracted by his work. He took out a bottle containing a small amount of red liquid, dropped it onto a slide, and began adjusting the stage height of his microscope. After making a few alterations and finding what may have had the potential to be a new element, he set down his clipboard, glancing up at Molly, but then looking again when he noticed the smile on Molly's face. It was larger than it normally was, and it was a genuine smile, yet her eyelids dropped somewhat, which was either a sign of exhaustion or sadness.

"How long did you sleep last night?" Sherlock asked, causing Molly to jump in surprise. "Oh, forgot you were there," she stammered. "W-what was the question?"  
"How long did you sleep last night?" he repeated patiently, having gotten used to her jumpiness around him, regardless of the countless times she'd been around him.  
"Um…. Six hours, maybe?" Molly replied, though it sounded as though she didn't even believe it.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I think you know better than to lie to me by now, Molly. It's really not your strongpoint. It's honestly just a question, it's not like I'll hit you with a whip if you didn't get much."  
"No… but…" Molly almost continued to say something, but seemed to think better of it and tucked Bradley in once more, just as he was nodding off, and turned to a bodybag, unzipping it quickly and beginning a dissection.  
"But what?" Sherlock pressed, knowing that if he didn't find out what was wrong with her, he'd be making useless deductions about it all day.

Molly sighed quietly, and swiveled around in her chair. "But if I told you I didn't sleep, you would probably ask why." She paused for a second, shook her head and smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm bothering you again. You should probably get back to work." Sherlock huffed when she turned back around and pulled up a chair across from the body she was working on. "As much as I wish I wasn't interested, Molly, I am. Are you going to make me observe it out of you or are you going to tell me so that we can get on with our day?"

Without looking up, she closed her eyes and breathed slowly. "Natalie-" she gestured over to the baby with her head to remind Sherlock of who the baby's mother was- "overdosed on drugs last night. She's in a hospital in Manchester, and she probably won't make it. I guess it's just saddening that the baby won't have a mother." Her eyes got glassy, but she blinked furiously, refusing to cry in front of Sherlock, and also refusing to cry over this situation. "But it's silly to get upset over it," she said, trying too hard to sound happy. "Plenty of people in this hospital are dying right now, and some of them-" she gestured to the body she was dissecting- "are dead. Getting upset won't do any good, and it won't bring them back. Bradley's going to live with his grandparents. He'll be all right, I suppose."

Sherlock analyzed Molly's features. She was telling the truth, but he couldn't quite understand why she was upset. Her problem was that she cared too much for people, and if he hadn't thought better of it, he would have pointed out that this was the exact reason why he tried not to get too emotionally attached or empathetic with people. All love did was cause pain, which was why he attempted to keep the people he cared for to a minimum.

Molly, however, was an exception to his rule. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that she was different to him. She was different in a way that puzzled him- he would never stop and genuinely want to know why somebody was upset unless it was for a case that he needed information for, but for some reason, he felt the urge to help her in any way he could, seeing as to how she was upset for something as kindhearted as this.

He also soon realized why this really affected Molly. This baby was going to live the exact same life she did, except that she had a father growing up. With a heart like hers, she could only imagine what it would be like to lose both parents at a young age. She probably considered herself lucky to have only lost one at a young age, and then her father later on when she could try to deal with the heavy blow.

Sherlock stood up and rounded the corner to Molly's slab. "Don't worry, Molly. He'll be all right," he said, expressing actual kindness, and gave Molly a quick hug, leaving her stunned and staring in disbelief as he walked out of the lab.

* * *

**Hello again, you guys! Here's the start to my new fanfiction! I believe this one will be 14+ chapters, so please follow if you're interested in the story continuing! PM me if you have any questions or comments at all and it would mean so much if you would leave any feedback you might have! I can't wait to hear from all of you! Have a great day. **


	2. Chapter 2

"This doesn't make any sense," Sherlock muttered irritably, looking at the results of the test on John's laptop, taking the needle out of his arm and tossing it in a stack on the table, along with fourteen others. He dabbed at his now swollen arm and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples frustratedly before picking up another needle.

"Sherlock, what in the _hell _are you doing?!" John entered the kitchen, looking at all the blood stained napkins, scribbled-on paper, and frightening amount of needle injections. "This… this is dangerous!"  
"Yeah, I know, the software has plenty of precautions," Sherlock said nonchalantly, prepping his arm for the fifteenth time.  
"Why are you injecting yourself with….wait, you're taking blood samples? Sherlock, you can't just take… what are you even doing this for?"

"Oh, calm down, I've only used three pints of blood," Sherlock said. John raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, soaking in the words. "Three… three pints?! Sherlock, that is completely ridiculous!"  
"Don't be so dramatic, John," Sherlock replied monotonely, rolling his eyes. "I'm trying to figure something out, if you don't mind."  
"I'm a _doctor_, Sherlock, you can get sick with your H:W ratio taking that much, and you… Jesus Christ, are you even listening?!"

"Damn it!" Sherlock groaned, unplugging the scanning device from the computer. "That's all of them."  
"Wait, what… what are you doing?" John asked, looking at the screen. His eyes widened in disbelief. "You're testing yourself for diseases? The same one, 15 times?"  
"I tried for multiple trials," Sherlock said, gathering the needles and throwing them in the bin. "Rubbish."

John stared at the computer screen. "Dementia… you're testing yourself for Dementia? Why?" he asked.  
"Because it's the only one that makes sense."  
"The only what that makes sense?"  
"It's the only condition that I could get that involves a change in behavior."  
"Change in… are you saying you have _mood swings_?"

"No, of course I'm not!" Sherlock replied angrily. "I'm saying that I'm not supposed to care!"  
"Care about _what_?" John asked, throwing his hands in the air.  
"Molly!" Sherlock answered. John sat down, attempted not smiling for a few seconds, and burst into hysterical laughter. "Oh my God," he laughed, dabbing at his eyes. "That's a good one, that's… that's classic you, Sherlock."  
"What is?" Sherlock asked, turning his head.

"You… you're substituting liking someone for a serious condition," John said, still grinning. "Of course you'd believe that you have a mental problem before you'd believe that you were in love with someone."

"Who said I was in love with her?" Sherlock asked defensively, growing agitated with the conversation.

"I did, just now," John replied with a smirk that Sherlock suddenly felt like punching him for. "No, you care about people all the time, well, not all the time, but you do care for a few people most of the time. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, myself… but you care for Molly in a different way, which is why you're testing yourself for something that would explain you feeling differently than you normally do. Sherlock, you're not mad, you're in _loooove_." He drew out the last word like a school girl before laughing again.

"John, if you haven't noticed, romance isn't my area," Sherlock replied, patching his now swollen elbow. "Huh," he mumbled to himself, "I suppose sociopathic doesn't fall under the category of dementia." John rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, I'm not even sure that you fully understand what it is, and I highly doubt that you could get the results from a blood test."

"Of course you can," Sherlock replied, before going off on a tangent about finding mental problem characteristics within white blood cells, a theory that he had successfully tested on one of the mental hospital patients in 2008, which John could only assume was without permission.

He shook his head. "All I'm saying is that mentally, you're fine. Well… as mentally fine as you've always been," he said. "You simply just care about Molly in a way that you've never felt, and that way is lovingly. So if I were you I'd stop avoiding the laboratory and make a move."

"Make a move," Sherlock said in disgust. "Please, I get enough ridiculous retro statements from Scotland Yard."  
John sighed. "Whatever you say, Sherlock. What's making you feel this way about her, anyway?"

Sherlock exhaled sharply. "I don't know, but it's annoying."

"Well, what was she doing?"

"I don't know, she was just taking care of a baby who no longer has parents and she was upset, probably because she could relate somewhat to it. I'm not sure why, but when I noticed that she was about to cry, I felt like comforting her, something I never do, and…. _Oh_!" Sherlock stood up abruptly and quickly began to put on his coat and scarf.

"What? What, 'oh?'" John asked. Sherlock turned around right in front of the door. "I'm going to go and take care of something," Sherlock said quickly. "Don't wait up!"  
"Sherlock, where are you going?" John called after him, before giving up and shutting the door.

As Sherlock walked out into the frosty air, he smirked at himself. After this, he would finally be rid of his problem.

* * *

**Hi guys! I'm sorry to say this, but the next chapter of this story will be the last. I don't think that this should be a big story, because the plot I've given it was really only capable of becoming a one-shot. :) HOWEVER, I'm going to start something else here in a few weeks- the next story taking place right after Honest. I think I'm meant to continue that rather than write something different, so I'll be doing that. Thank you so much for reading, and have a great day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The bacteria samples are all ready for you in the lab! –MH [sent: 9:20 A.M, February 28th]**

**Not sure if you received the last message, but the bacteria are beginning to multiply. You may need to get to them now for your experiment. –MH [sent: 13:20, March 3rd]**

**Sherlock, if you don't come get your bacteria soon, I'll have to throw them out. They're a bit unsanitary. –MH [sent: 8:50, March 6th]**

**Last chance. I'm sorry- I really can't keep them in here anymore after today. –MH [sent: 12:48, March 7th]**

**Well, any use they may have been to you is completely eradicated now. I'm really sorry, but I'm throwing them out now. –MH [sent: 9:23, March 8th]**

Molly breathed heavily and stuffed her phone in her lab coat pocket. She wandered over to the bacteria container that Sherlock had been so adamant about her obtaining for him, held her breath, and plucked it up in her hands, wincing at the now nearly slimy feel of the top. These had been perfect little bacteria-when looked at on a slide under a microscope, that is. She was rather proud of the rigor that she went through to get them. It had been a long time since she'd experimented with bacteria specimens- something she rather enjoyed- and done it correctly. It was a real shame that they would go to waste, but there wasn't much that she could do at this point. They had multiplied too much, and Sherlock only had wanted something from the three main organisms that he had begun with.

This past month had been terrible. She didn't know what had happened to little Bradley, and she felt horrible, as she had recently received the bodies to do an autopsy on, realizing shortly that they were his grandparents- the only family he had left. That hadn't been easy paperwork to fill out. At that point, she would have just adopted him herself and found a way to make it work, she had a more than decent pay to cover the cost of a child, but when she attempted to contact the adoption agency, which was the one place in England that he could have been after she gave him back to the grandparents, but they had no idea what she was talking about. It made her sick to believe that he was gone.

Randomly, however, she had received a call the next day, saying that they had done some research, and knew of the child she was speaking of. They apologized for any inconvenience, but said that Bradley had been adopted and taken to a very stable home. Molly was taken aback, and asked by whom. They told her that it was illegal for them to give her the information- it was made clear that it was to be confidential by a Mr. Holmes.

Molly couldn't believe it. She wanted to be angry at him for giving her the cold shoulder and leaving his bacteria, but he had had Bradley _adopted. _For that, she would always have a lot of gratitude for him. That was definitely the kindest thing she had ever seen him do, not counting the numbers of lives he had saved.

If he hadn't been seemingly avoiding her like the plague, she could thank him. And maybe, if he wasn't so irritating because of his random disappearance form her live, she could bring herself to rethink her opinion of him having no heart.

As she opened the back door of the lab and opened the dumpster, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a cab pull up. Assuming it to be someone with an appointment who had just come to the wrong parking lot, she turned her head back to the bin and said as they climbed out, "You're at the back, not the front. Would you like me to show you the way to the front entrance?"  
"I know exactly where I am, Molly."

The baritone voice caused Molly to look back over in surprise. "Sherlock, where have you been?" she asked, both greatly annoyed and happy. "I've been trying to contact you for weeks!" "That doesn't matter," he returned briskly. "Your bacteria's been disposed of, if that's what you were looking for," Molly said flatly. "Why didn't you come get it sooner?"  
"Honestly, Molly, the bacteria was just a distraction," Sherlock said bluntly with a roll of his eyes, as if the bacteria meant absolutely nothing.

"What… what are you talking about?" Molly asked, her stutter that was for whatever reason reserved around him, surfacing. "Molly, I have been thinking for weeks, all about the same subject," Sherlock began in his tone that meant he was about to speak very quickly, and speak a lot. Molly leaned back, knowing she'd be here a while. She sincerely hoped that this wasn't some kind of project he'd created to somehow improve her appearance or her personality, as he had tried before. He was very degrading, and sometimes quite hurtful in that respect. She listened anyway, bracing herself for some kind of convoluted explanation as to how he was trying to get her to become less annoying by ignoring her so she would stop with her indecent obsession with-

"Molly? Were you listening?"  
"Oh… sorry, Sherlock. Were you saying something?" Molly asked, snapping out of her train of thought. "Yes, I was," Sherlock replied annoyedly. "Otherwise my mouth wouldn't have been moving and sound waves wouldn't come out of my vibrating vocal cords."  
Molly blinked at his irritation in confusion, before smirking. She hadn't seen him in a while, and she supposed that she missed his thinking and random appearances, no matter how irrational and rude they could be at times. She had only been having a bad day; there was no need to assume the worst from him right now. "Right. Go on."  
"Why are you smiling?"  
"Smiling?"  
"Yes, Molly, I don't believe I said anything in a foreign language in that statement. I don't think I told a joke just now."  
"No, you didn't."  
"Then why were you smiling?"

"I don't know," she said. "Suppose I missed you." Realizing her words, she immediately felt her face rush scarlet. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, um…" The corners of Sherlock's mouth twitched somewhat- the closest he normally got to a smile, before he spoke with a softer tone, surprised by her comment and amused by her immediate reaction to herself. "Thank you, Molly. I missed you, too."

Molly was positive that her face was on fire. She felt frozen and as if she had sealed her fate. At this point, Sherlock could ask her to jump off of a cliff for an experiment and she could happily do it. "What… what do you need?" she asked.  
"What makes you think that I need anything?" Sherlock replied, eyebrows arching.

"Well, you normally only… come here if you need… something," Molly said, trying to choose her words carefully so as to not look more foolish than she already felt. "Molly, I'm simply here to thank you," he said kindly.  
"Thank me? For what?" she returned.  
"For everything," Sherlock said, allowing himself to smile. "You helped me fake my death, something I couldn't have done without you. You let me live out in your flat until I came back, which was probably excruciatingly frustrating, knowing the type of person I am. Most of all, you never stopped believing in me."

"Why are you saying any of this now?" Molly asked, though touched. "I appreciate what you're saying, but I don't understand why you're doing it now."  
"Simply because you needed to hear it," Sherlock replied. "I know how hard things have been for you, and I know that you haven't exactly had the easiest last month, so I figured that you could use someone to cheer you up-"

Without thinking, Molly flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Sherlock," she said, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "I can't thank you enough."  
"For what?" Sherlock asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. Not knowing what else to do, he wrapped him arms around her, returning the hug.  
"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. You may have made Bradley's new parents names confidential, but the agency didn't keep yours as such."  
Sherlock made a grunting noise to acknowledge that he'd heard her, while secretly plotting what he wished could be the untimely demise of the adoption agency workers. He supposed that he would have to go back and teach them the definition of the word "confidential."  
Molly realized what she was doing, before drawing back slightly, red as a tomato. "Sorry," she mumbled. "You probably don't like hugs."  
"No, it's… it's fine," Sherlock said, a small smile forming on his lips, as he met her gaze. "Glad to see you're feeling better, Miss Hooper."

With that, he ended the hug and began to walk off.  
"Sherlock-" Molly called after. He turned around. "Yes?"  
"Th-thanks again," she said. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Honestly." He turned around and walked off, though he secretly felt better than he had in a while. He was finally rid of the silly feelings in his heart for Molly.

At least, he thought as much.

* * *

**I am so sorry about how long that took. As you probably know, I'm not very confident about this particular story, but I really hope that you liked the way it ended. It was only meant to be a one-shot, but I managed to drag it out for three chapters xD **

**My promise to start a prequel to Obvious hasn't changed, the production of that will begin soon! Thank you so much for reading, and have a great day!**

**Any compliments, questions, comments, suggestions, flames, or death threats that you would like to issue me? Please leave a review or a PM and let me know! :) ALSO: I might be changing my Pen Name on here. If you have any suggestions or you feel strongly about me leaving it as is, you can also tell me any of those! Preferably I'm looking for something to do with Sherlock. Really I'm only telling you this so that you know I'm still the same person if I change it. :D**


End file.
